


The Armoress

by FreshBrains



Series: Femslash 100 Drabble tag 6 [91]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, Community: femslash100, Dom/sub, F/F, Light Bondage, POV Alana Bloom, Riding Crops, Season/Series 03, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4484063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t like pain with your pleasure,” Alana says, voice laced with something much more intense than professional curiosity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Armoress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [4Kennedy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/4Kennedy/gifts).



> For the Femslash100 Drabble Tag 6 prompt: Alana/Margot - riding crop.

The handle of the riding crop is supple and firm against Alana’s palm. The works the leather between her fingers, warming it with her skin, and stares down at Margot spread-eagle on the bed.

“You don’t like pain with your pleasure,” Alana says, voice laced with something much more intense than professional curiosity.

Margot squirms against her restraints, the silk brilliant against her milk-pale skin. Her eyes are covered, too. “I’ve had too much or the former and nowhere near enough of the latter,” she says. She’s naked and so wet already that there’s a dark patch on the red silk sheets, the insides of her thighs slick and damp.

Alana feels her heartbeat go rabbit-fast, her throat go dry. “In that case, when we’re together, I’ll never cause you pain.” The riding crop arches into the air, but does not come down. “Do you trust me to give you only pleasure?”

“I don’t trust anyone just yet,” Margot says, grinding her knees together at the sound of Alana’s firm voice washing over her. “But I suppose you’re as good a place to start as any.”

The tip of the riding crop falls as soft as a whisper onto Margot’s bare hip, the leather just kissing her skin. Margot shudders, arching into the sensation. Alana trails it down her thighs and finally, mercifully, between her legs to nudge up against her swollen clit.

“And what a good start indeed,” she says thickly, watching like a stalking animal as Margot writhes.


End file.
